The Pale Echo
The chandelier shattered not with a sound like glass but with a sound like a scream, a long, high-pitched wail that tore through the heavy velvet drapes of the manor’s main hall and left a dusting of crystal over the polished oak floor, a glittering scar that caught the moonlight in jagged, accusing shards as I stood there, my hands still raised in the futile gesture of catching what had...
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